Her name in his mouth
by captivatedlady
Summary: Kink meme fill for prompt: Abagail walks in unseen on Ichabod masturbating and calling her name. She can't stop watching and sees it through to the end.
1. Unintelligible words

The door quietly clicked behind her. It had been a long day of seemingly everyone wanting a piece of her. She just wanted to crash on the nearest soft surface and not hear her name in someone's mouth for all of 5 minutes. Just 5 minutes of peace is all. Abbie silenced her phone and dropped it on the couch in the cabin. Shrugging off her jacket, she reached to pull her shirt from the waistband of her pants when she heard it. Eyes narrowed, she froze in place, ears keen to listen for the sound again. _Unghh_. A low, muffled grunt. She slipped the firearm from her side and began slowly making her way toward the sound.

Carefully slipping from wall to wall, she cleared the kitchen area, the hall. The noise grew louder, and she knew it was coming from the room Ichabod used. She pressed her lips into a grimace, expecting to find Crane compromised, gagged, under duress, something. The door was open not quite halfway. Using her extended arm, she slowly pushed the door open a bit more, careful not to make a sound. The deep, throaty grunts grew more frequent, as if from a struggle.

The lamp on the far side of the room illuminated the bed, perpendicular to the entry. As she silently moved into the doorway, more of him came into view. Crane lay on the bed, bare feet, bare legs. Eyes adjusting to the dim light, adrenaline pumping, she noticed everything was bare. Crane was sprawled on the covers, legs spread and naked as the day he was born. His head thrown back on a pillow with hair loose and strands sticking to sheen collecting on his temple. Cranes chest, sprinkled with soft hair, rose and fell with labored breaths. The muscles of his stomach tightened. The grunting and groaning continued, the hand opposite her working his thick erection while the other cupped the balls beneath a dark shadow of hair. Without realizing it, her arms had slowly dropped from position and she stood in the doorway silent, eyes wide and mouthing a silent 'ohhh'. Unintelligible words came from Crane's mouth, coarse and desperate. He was working himself up to a brutal pace, his tone rising, words becoming shorter and louder. Instinct was telling her to look away, to leave, but the desperation in his voice made it hard to tear her eyes away.

Then she heard it. After the 'god almightys' and a particularly un-Crane like 'fuuuuck', his mouth contorted and with a hiss let out 'Aba-Abagail'.

No, no no no. Not happening. She has lost her mind, this man did not just say her name. Then with one tight stroke, he let out a strangled ' oh god Abagail' and her hands lost their grip on her gun, sending it clattering to the wooden floor. Ichabod's head jerked toward the sound with eyes wide as he came, hot and hard into his own hand, spilling onto his stomach and covers alike.

Physically spent, his face grew redder as he panted, wanting to catch his breath and try to explain the situation away, however futile it would be. But Abbie, in shock and awe, turned smartly on one heel and bolted.

As she sat in her truck, both hands gripping the wheel, the part that seemed to bother her the most was that she actually wasn't bothered. Surprised? Yeah.

Surprised at finding Crane in the buff, jacking himself off while he grunted out her name. Surprised that even though he looked good for 200, he looked ridiculously do-able laying in bed without a stitch on, damp with sweat and totally uninhibited. Surprised that instead of being embarrassed, her underwear were soaked and the desire to grind herself against something, anything, finally had her pressing her fingers against herself to gain enough relief to drive home.

_Yeah, she thought, this was the beginning of a whole new problem._


	2. A whole new problem

A/N: All your lovely and kind reviews made it hard for me to let this one go as a one shot. IDK how far I'll take it but we'll see.

Abbie slammed the empty cup on the kitchen table. "Oh goddd" she groaned, the last bit of spicy liquor tracing a hot line down her throat and into her belly. Flopping face down on the table, she tried to avoid the images that played behind her eyelids everytime she let them close. The drunker she got, the weirder they became; monsters tangled with death and annoying exes and 250 year old gorgeous naked men, and Corbin and Hessian nutjobs conjuring pools of demons. What the fuck was her life becoming? This wasn't working. Getting drunk off her ass was not going to solve anything, least of all the problem of how to work with your partner after you watched them jerk one out with you as their fantasy.

Especially Crane.

Oh man, he was so not good with these kind of things. She could count on one hand the amount of times he'd called her by her name, and 2 of those were during, well...the thing. Admittedly, one of the hottest things she'd ever seen but she truly doubted telling him that would solve the problem. She sat upright, eyesight blurred and tongue feeling too thick to fit in her mouth. 'Okay the deal- here's the deal. You show up like nothing's wrong, tell Crane to forget it happened, no harm done. Get back to work. Problem solved.' It's not like dudes don't do that all the time. She didn't know how many thought about her, but hey, it was flattering. In a weird kind of way.

Stumbling, she crashed on the couch, face into the pillows, her last coherent thought a half hope to wake up tomorrow and be over the whole Crane in bed, looking good enough to eat, with her name in his mouth and that delicious accent of his.

_The door clicked softly behind her. She shrugged out of her jacket, dropping her belongings onto the couch. Bending, she made quick work of the laces on her boots and finally peeled off her jeans. She slowly made her way to the half open door at the end of the hall, golden light spilling through into the hallway. She pulled her shirt up and over her head, letting it fall to the floor. Soft, guttural moans grew louder as she approached the door. The sound of his voice made hot butterflies swirl downward inside her stomach, like a slow motion drop on rollercoaster. Her lower body clenched instinctively, the thin material of her underwear already becoming damp with need. _

_This time the room looked different, the foot of the bed facing the doorway, presenting a whole different view of Crane laying on the bed. Covers askew, his tall, lean frame dominating the mattress. Face flushed and upturned, long pale fingers working their magic on himself, a small bead of sweat making it's way down from the stubble on his throat with every labored breath. She entered undetected, the weight of her body climbing onto the bed finally giving away her presence. Crane stopped, eyes wide and dark, pupil's blown with his approaching orgasm. She straddled him, grinding the dampness of her panties against his erection, his large hands skimming her thighs, the tickling sensation setting off goosebumps over her whole body, her nipples hardening inside her bra. Ichabod's mouth opened, words threatening to spill off his tongue but she placed a finger over them, his eyes growing wide again with excitement. Shhhhh, she murmured softly, shaking her head slowly. Dragging her lips down up his neck, tasting the salty sweat that had gathered there, she directed his hand towards her inner thigh, both their fingers pulling aside the thin material that separated them. The touch of his fingertips on her wet folds elicited a sigh that felt like she had been holding in a lifetime. The groan he let out vibrated through her as she guided his erection into her hot, slick center. She sat back, burying every inch of him inside her and slowly started to ride him, hips bucking and rotating, his hands squeezing her hips so hard she was sure she'd bruise. She pulled loose the clasp on her bra, letting it fall down her arms and tossing it aside. Again, he growled pulling her down onto him as she rode, his mouth suckling at the taut buds of her breasts, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of her chest, his rhythm speeding as he bucked his hips to meet her. She was getting close, her head was swimming and her cries became shorter and louder. She could feel him fast behind her, his erection harder and deeper with each stroke. He tangled a hand in the hair at the nape of her neck and brought her face to his, eye to eye. 'Oh God Abagail.. I'm almost..' The sound of her name in his mouth was enough to send her into the abyss. 'Yes, Crane, do it' she groaned, both of them at their peak, threatening to spill into each other._

Noise, oh god too much noise. Her hands reached out blindly for the the phone, it's shrill alarm echoing into her brain like a dull knife. Her bottoms damp with unsated desire and her core clenching at nothing. The upward spiral threatening to collapse, she pressed her hand hard to her and bucked until she was spent, the ache still there but pacified enough for her to wake up fully.

She grabbed the phone and silenced it as soon as she could see the button clearly. 10:42 am. Already missed calls and voice mails demanded her attention. Struggling to get off the couch, her body felt like it had aged 100 years overnight. First voice mail was the captain. 'Pick up Crane, you two get down here soon, I've got something for you' he says. The complications involved in such a seemingly simple request threatened to send her calling in for a sick day until the second voice mail started.

"Good Morning, Ms Mills. I did not know if to expect your arrival this morning, but the Captain has informed me that we are to meet him at the precinct. However, I understand...if you wish to not be in my company today. I do have a message to share with you, from Katrina. I hope this message finds you well. Your friend, Ichabod Crane."

She leaned over the counter next to the coffeemaker, edges of counter top leaving red indentions on her arms. 'Oh god Crane. You are too sweet for your own damn good sometimes.' She could hear the embarrassment through the phone. Her unfinished wet dream had left her moody and dreading to see him in person. Avoiding him would only make him feel worse though, and honestly, he hadn't earned it. This problem was her's completely.

One hot shower and some clean clothes later, she didn't feel half as old. Slipping on her shades to hide the damage from the drink, she headed for Corbin's cabin.

The thing about an apocalypse is, it tends to put shit on the back burner, she thought.


	3. Definitely mortified

To say the ride to the precinct was awkward would be an understatement of epic proportions. Her head was pounding with dehydration, her eyes felt red and gritty and Crane's face was so red she feared he might pass out from the pressure.

Irving was less than thrilled with their late arrival. True to form, he went straight to business, her nor Crane saying much of anything throughout the whole rundown. "Mills, what's this?" he asked her, motioning to his face. "It'll take a lot more than some shades to go incognito around here."

"Sorry. Just tired, late night." she said as she slipped the glasses off. Crane glanced at her from the corner of his eyes without raising his head. Irving looked at them both like he expected one of them to explode, unsure of which one would go first. The elephant in the room grew larger by the second, until it felt like it would suck all the air out of the room, leaving them flattened from the pressure.

"Look, I don't know if there's a problem or what, but we've got horsemen and demons bringing a literal biblical shitflow our way, so whatever's going on, deal with it."

After several hours at her desk, the combination of Morales' prying eyes and Crane's obvious tiptoeing around her had her at the limit. "Crane, the archive, NOW."  
Without hesitation, he followed, her quick footsteps clicking hard on the tile floors. Reaching the archive, he stood facing away from her as she shut the door.

"Crane, look. I know you're...embarrassed but I doubt we're gonna get anything accomplished when we aren't even speaking."

"Embarrassed?! Embarrassed is hardly the word I'd use to describe this. No. Horrified maybe." he paused to think. "Mortified. Definitely mortified..." he rambled on. Her head throbbed in time with her pulse, which in Crane's prescence was usually a little faster. She pressed her fingers to her temples, eyes pinched shut.

"Enough. Crane, ENOUGH."

He spun around, startled from his own rambling by the forcefulness of her voice.

"Are you not well?"

"No Crane, I'm not well. My damn head is killing me and I've got Irving and Morales eyeing me all morning and you tiptoeing around me like you'll never be able to look at me again, all the while we're supposed to be stopping the apocolypse. It's just not gonna work."  
He shoved his hands into his pockets, head down. "No, I suppose it won't," he said quietly, as he reached for the doorknob.

"Where you goin'?" she asked, his hand hovering at the door. Crane's face was a mashup of embarrassment and confusion and he looked like a frightened puppy who'd just been scolded. It was hard to remember sometimes, that he was out of his element, and alone. It was hard to remember that he wasn't always Mr. Tall, Dark and British, full of intelligent wit and revolutionary hero stories.  
She rubbed her hands over her face, a smile starting at her lips. "I'm not talking about us not working, I'm talking about you being so embarrassed about last night that you can't even be around me. What I was saying was, I understand you're embarrassed. And while it may be awkward, it's hardly the worst thing I've ever seen." _Far from it...ugh Abbie, hold it together._

A distressed look crossed his face. "While I'm not sure what you mean by the 'worst thing you've seen', it's certainly a terrible insult to you and I deeply regret my actions and any offense you may have taken from it. I'm terribly sorry, what transpired last night was purely my own vile shortcomings as a friend and a husband. Both Katrina and you have every right to be disappointed in me, and I could not fault either of you if you chose to never grace me with your presence again."

Oh god, he was glutton for punishment, torturing himself. He still couldn't even look her in the eye. The look on his face was too much to bear. He was all kinds of tore up about this. He looked like he'd just committed an atrocity beyond words, when in reality all he'd done was sentence her to having erotic wet dreams about fucking him senseless . She laughed, unable to stop herself. When the giggles faded, he looked at her expectantly.

"I'd love to hear all about the humour you find in my disgrace," he quipped.

Tears of amusement threatened to spill from her eyes. "Oh Crane. I'm not offended, or disappointed...or any of that crap. I know this is a whole different century, but believe me, there are worse things that I could've walked in on." Honestly though, she didn't know how much worse it could be. She didn't have a photographic memory like Crane, but damn if she didn't remember everything about him lying in that bed.

Crane looked dumbfounded, his loss for word a rarity that she took full advantage of in the moment.

"But Katrina though, you said came to you last night? What evil boogeyman are we up against now?"

The embarrassment faded from his face as he thought about the message he'd recieved last night. Thoughtfully he looked at her, his fingers ghosting the curve of his chin. "I couldn't hear everything she said towards the end of the dream, but I do remember her saying 'You're on the right path. It's a bridge'."

A/N:OK I wanted it to end on a nice note. You guys have been so kind to me about this story, that started out as a one shot. I'm always so hesitant to post anything but everyone has been so nice I really wanted to finish this somehow. My headcanon, which will probably be proven wrong, is that his wife coming back to life isn't an option, and not only does she not want him to be alone forever, Crane and Abbie's bond is going to get (and needs to be) stronger. Don't kill me. I want them to do the dirty as much as y'all.


	4. Perfect and Proper

A/N: I'M BAAA-AAACCK. I couldn't let this go. Thanks everyone for the kind reviews. What will happen? Will they ever get around to doing the dirty? I'm praying to Jesus!Crane that they do. Eventually...

The nights were getting longer and colder, and the demons that crept in at the edges of her vision came out to play more often now. Everything was darker; the night, the blood, even Crane himself was more brooding than ever. Something she hadn't thought possible, until secrets starting spilling from purgatory into this world. Abbie could understand his listlessness, his mood that swung from one end of the spectrum to the other. She didn't know if anyone else could see it, but she saw the stress that had settled in around his eyes, the tension in the set of his jaw. It was there, always now. Whether in the archives engrossed in books or in the streets chasing demons that seemed content to tease them. Evil that drew their personal demons out to play but never coming close enough to do the damage themselves.

The purr of the engine stopped, the quiet of the woods at Corbin's cabin taking it's place. Without bothering to look at her partner, she laid her head back against the seat and let out a exhausted yawn, stretching her arms up until she felt a satisfying burn in them. The day had been way too long, too hectic, just too much.

"God, I could fall asleep right this second and sleep for a hundred years."

The comment wasn't lost on Crane. "Hmm," he let out a low chuckle. " I loathe to tell you this, Lieutenant, but even two hundred years of sleep wouldn't prepare you for this journey we've found ourselves on."

She laughed, her head lolling to the side and resting on her arm propped against the door. "I guess you'd be the one to know, huh, Rip Van Winkle."

He raised one glorious eyebrow at her comment, but before he could even ask, she waved a hand in surrender. _Those fucking eyebrows_, she thought. His face distracted her more than she was ready to admit.

"It's a story, a bit after your time I suppose," she answered, sleepiness overtaking her voice. "Dude only slept for 20 years though. I'd settle for that."  
For a few more minutes, they sat silent in the car. A comfortable silence though, as it usually was with him. Sometimes she could still hear the wheels turning in his mind, see it in his face. Her eyes felt heavy, sleep looming over her. She knew if he didn't get headed home soon she'd be too far gone to get herself home, but her body felt like lead and she couldn't muster the energy to move.

"Miss Mills...Miss Mills!" A hand on her arm was jostling her awake. "Lieutenant!"

Her eyes popped open, Crane still jostling her arm.

"You're falling to sleep, Miss Mills."

Her eyes closed again. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Yeah, I'm going."

"No, you are not going. You're sleeping," he argued, in his most annoying literal tone.

"Lieutenant, you are too tired to drive home."

Her head fell forward, her neck jerking her awake. "No I'm fine, I'm not going to sleep in the car. I can make it home."

"No, please stay here tonight. You may use the bedroom, I'll be fine on the couch. You are in no condition to be operating a vehicle, " he gently scolded.

Her expression soured at his tone. She knew he was going to say that. The last thing she needed was to be in his bedroom, in his bed. They'd finally gotten past the whole 'Crane in bed saying her name' awkwardness, although she hadn't gotten past the 'having dreams about Crane in bed' problem that, thank whatever gods, he didn't know about.

They argued the point for a few minutes. She finally gave up fighting,_ but only if I sleep on the couch_, she'd said. She was so sleepy, she could barely make it out of the car and into the cabin. He helped her up the steps and into the living area.

He wasn't budging, though. "No, you are my guest, I won't be able to sleep well knowing you've been relegated to the couch." He led her to the bedroom, despite her feeble attempt at a protest. She felt like a sleep walking zombie.

She made one last attempt. "Crane, no I can't sleep in your bed."

"Yes, you can, and you will. You can close the door, have your privacy. I shall be a perfect gentleman, on my best behaviour."

_Oh yeah, there you go Crane. Go there, why don't you. Perfect gentlemen, _she thought_. That's part of the damn problem. All perfect and proper until I walk in and find you jerking one out and then I can't sleep worth a shit for weeks on end._

Abbie gave him a sarcastic smile.

"Sleep well, lieutenant, " he said, closing the door, leaving her to herself in this damn bedroom that she'd been dreaming of almost every night since she'd walked in on him

She struggled out of her jacket, removing her weapon and holster, laying them across the bedside table. She slipped her bra and boots and socks off, unbuttoning her jeans before falling into the bed and snuggling under the covers. His scent was strong on the bedding, like the old books in the archive and that slighty spicy musky smell that was all male, and all Crane. It felt comforting and safe, yet her stomach flipped and flopped at the thought of laying in the same bed he slept in every night. The same bed he'd lain naked in and touched himself to the thought of her. She groaned out loud at the thought of that, and settled herself in for a night of restless sleep.


	5. Not interested in talking

Abbie couldn't sleep, she tossed from one side of his bed to the other. She was exhausted and wired at the same time. She knew even if she managed to fall asleep, she'd wake up in a few hours, at the precipice of a maddening dream, her orgasm imminent._ Turnabout's fair play, my ass. I'm not about to get caught with my hand down my pants in Crane's bed_, she thought. She tried to calm her mind, forget about the smell of him all around her, forget about everything. After several hours of wrestling with her thoughts, she knew sleep wasn't coming easily tonight.

Quietly, she ventured out of the bedroom to the small kitchenette, making her way quietly in the dim light that shone in from outside. Crane's long legs were hanging off the end of the couch, still wearing those hideous thick socks he wore. The fireplace held only a few glowing embers. She grabbed a glass and got some water from the tap. She listened to the soft, even breaths and hisses from the couch and she knew he was fast asleep. The small throw draped over him only managed to cover him from chest to a little past his knees, he was so tall. With his hair undone, falling in his face, sleeping so peacefully, he seriously looked like the prettiest white Jesus she'd ever seen. That thought tickled her so much she almost choked on her water, her chest seizing as she felt water going down the wrong way. Her coughing startled him awake.

"Dear God, Abbie, are you alright?" he asked, jumping off the couch and coming around to pat her on the back. Once she'd caught her breath, his hand remained on her back, moving in large, soothing circles. She could swear it felt like his hand would burn right through the thin material of her shirt. Abbie had to steel herself to keep from melting into his touch.

"Yeah...yeah", she cleared her throat. "I'm fine." she croaked out.

He gave her that famous eyebrow raise, the one he used to ask if she was sure of something without having to actually question her judgement.

Her eyes widened, "I'm fine," she demanded.

Crane noticed the fire, or what was left of it and slowly went over to add more logs. He knelt down at the fireplace, expertly poking and prodding at the embers with the long metal fire poker.

"Not sleeping well?" he asked as he added another log to the fire. He prodded them around some more.

"No, not really. Figured I'd get up and get a swig of water."

"Ahh, yes." he chided. "I'm sorry I've none of that fancy bottled water you love. "

She responded with a small groan. "It's too late for your sarcasm, Crane."

He stood and made his way back to the too short couch and too small blanket. She took a seat on the old wooden table in front of the couch, elbows to knees and looking at the floor.

"Too tired to sleep at this point, I guess" she said. "Didn't intend to wake you up though." She thought about what had tickled her to start with, and almost started giggling again. "Oh man, I hate when you get so tired that everything becomes hilarious." she stated, more to herself than to him.

"What, exactly, was it that entertained you so?" he asked, polite and inquisitive like a child.

She started to try and tell him but the giggles got the better of her. _OHmygod I am so tired, why is this so funny._ She laughed until tears threatened to spill down her face.

"I looked at you laying there sleeping. You looked so peaceful," she laughed again.

Confused, Crane interrupted before she could regain her composure. "The humor of this is lost on me, I'm afraid."

"No, no. I thought you just looked so peaceful, and with your hair down I thought you looked like the prettiest white Jesus I'd ever seen and I lost it." The giggles continued, she couldn't stop even though her stomach was starting to hurt.

"Well," Crane said as he tentatively touched at his hair, "I'm not sure as to why that is so amusing, but I'll take it as a compliment," the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile.

She wiped her eyes, and held her sides as the laughter finally started to die. He watched her intently, as usual, but tonight there was something different. His gaze was more intense, like he was studying her, burning her into his memory, making her skin prickle like a shiver but without the chill.

"So what was keeping you awake?" he asked, his stare still intense on her, the slightest hint of a cheshire cat grin waiting at one corner of his mouth.

His gaze was starting to unnerve her. She was too tired to deal with pretty jesus right now.

"Let me sleep on the couch. I cannot sleep in your bed," she bargained.

"What is the matter with my bed? Is it not comfortable? More pillows, perhaps?"

"No.."

He continued despite her protest. "There's more quilts here somewhere I'm sure."

"No. No more quilts. It feels fine. It just smells like you." she blurted out. Son of a bitch, did I just say that out loud.

Crane was take aback, either taken aback by what she'd said or offended, she couldn't tell.

He feigned offense. "Ms. Mills, are you trying to tell me that..I reek?"

She sighed loudly. "I didn't say that. I said your bed smells like you, not that you reek." She left out the part about her brain going a million miles a minute, the smell of him all around her driving her to her wits end, feeling electrified and leaving her wound up like a loaded spring ready to pop.

Crane just looked at her, his hands twitched in his lap, his long pale fingers moving nervously. Oh god she had it fucking bad. She could just sit here and fantasize about his damn hands in her pants while her stared her down.

She was tired, no, exhausted. She was lonely. They'd been burning the candle at both ends, never taking enough time to do anything. Not enough time to mourn their losses, to come to terms with their roles in this. Abbie didn't have it in her to quell the nervous torrents of emotions that rose up so often now. The only thing she could do was act.

"You know what the problem is Crane?" she asked in the most smart ass tone she could manage despite the flutters in her stomach. She stood over him. "The problem is, I am exhausted out of my mind, I haven't had a decent nights sleep in weeks and now you've got me in your bed, alone." She straddled him on the couch, startling a gasp from his lips and his eyes widened in surprise. "The same bed, might I add, that I walked up on you lying naked in." She brought her face closer to his, the red flush of embarrassment crawling up his neck to his face. She smirked, "If that's what you want to call it."

He closed his eyes, betrayed by the way his body wanted to respond to the knees pressed against his hips and embarrassed at the indiscretion she spoke of.

"Oh no. No. Miss Mills, I thought we had agreed..." he looked helplessly at anything other than her. "I thought we would not speak of that anymore."

Abbie couldn't contain the sly smile spreading across her face. Seeing Crane so obviously at odds with himself just because of her, the proper gentleman at war with the baser animal instincts, was like spraying gas on a fire. She was familiar the Crane that held open doors and spoke eloquently at all times. Tonight, the way he'd looked at her had her wanting to see the other Crane. Undone, unguarded, uninhibited.  
With one hand, she brought his face up towards hers, so they were eye to eye. Her hand was shaking but he didn't seem to notice.

Tentatively, she brought her lips to his face, grazing his skin with feather light kisses, coming close to his lips but not quite.

"I'm not interested in talking." she whispered into his ear. With that, his resolve splintered. His hands cupped her face, pressing his lips to hers.

A/N: Sorry, I've been going through some personal stuff and had written this but I kept obsessing and going back and ughhhh you know. And I couldn't resist pretty white jesus. Had to. Not sorry. I think I may do one more chapter of smut but idk.


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